Bait and Switch
by smxnautox
Summary: It's in her bra. F!Hawke/Fenris


Hawke was a thief. She called herself a rogue, but that hardly changed anything. She was also reckless, and stupid, and insane, and unreasonable, and never funny, and – and his fist hit the wall.

"Captured."

His blood ran cold as Varric answered with a grim nod.

It had always been in the back of his mind, the possibility that she would get caught one day. But she had been so invincible, and he had foolishly waved it off.

* * *

><p>"Hawke," he whispered, and it almost came out as calmly as he wanted. "Can you think of anything? A key. Anything."<p>

He'd found her in the bedroom, bound and handcuffed to a chair, and his mind reeled.

Now, he stood between a half-naked Hawke and the bed, numb fingers fumbling against a lock as he gently cradled her. She wasn't bound particularly tight, if only her hands weren't bound around the back. Would he hurt her if he simply ripped it all off? He didn't know.

"In my bra," she muttered into his ear, head resting against his shoulder.

His hands froze.

She moved, lightly nuzzling his neck.

What had they done to her? She didn't have any obvious injuries. His gaze swept over her form once again, looking for any visible signs. The heavy dread began settling in as he realized there were none. Magic. His jaw clenched. It must have been magic. He'd kill them. He didn't know who, but he'd kill them. Tear them into pieces and feed their remains to the dogs.

"…Hawke," he tried, and failed at keeping the quiver out of his voice this time.

"Officer." She paused, emphasizing the word as if it meant something. "The keys," she withdrew from his embrace, enunciating each word carefully as she glanced down, "are in my bra." Her eyes snapped back up, meeting his, and they were clear, lucid.

The silence was deafening.

"Oh for the…not even a hint? They didn't tell you anything at all," she grumbled, sounding like a petulant child denied a toy.

He continued staring, and she let out a suffering sigh.

"Do you remember how we met?" Her arms shifted behind her back with a flexibility he had never been able to match, maneuvering deftly, and he recalled the way she effortlessly unlocked even the most stubborn of chests. "You know, with the baiting and the switching and the," she jerked to the side, and there was a series of metallic clinks, "surprise, slave hunters." The chains clattered uselessly to the ground as she stood, absently stretching.

He stumbled back, jaw askew, eyes focused on the mess of steel now littering the floor.

"I'm good with my hands, if you've somehow forgotten in the last twenty-four hours." She took a step forward.

"You allowed them to capture you?" His jaw unhinged even further.

"Cost me fifty silver per hire, actually." She pressed closer, so close that he could hear, feel, her breathe over the hammering of his heart.

It made sense, now. The lack of traps and guards as he made his way to this room, Varric's insistence that he find Hawke while they held off the hooded 'bandits', Isabela's quick discovery of the 'hideout', Merrill's uncharacteristic –

One hand pushed down on his chest, and he unceremoniously collapsed into the bed. The other came down next to him, her thumb roughly caressing the markings running down his throat. He watched in wonderment as she closed in, sly smile parting as strands of her hair brushed against his face.

– They tricked him. She tricked him. This was a farce. He was definitely not relieved, he was angry. Angry. And what if this was a desire demon? Sent by some damned mage to –

Conscious thought swept out as her tongue swept in.

– He couldn't breathe.

"Surprise," she murmured against the corner of his mouth before pulling away, leaving him panting.

No demon could do Hawke justice, he decided.

"You are insane," he said, and encircled one arm around her waist. He flipped them over, exchanging their positions and eliciting a delighted gasp as she landed on the bed. Her hands reached up, brushing his sides as her fingers reached for the strappings of his armor.

Yes, he was angry.

Hawke was many things, but at least Hawke wasn't a liar.

A set of keys flew out, hitting the carpeted floor with a soft thud.

He'd concede on the 'good with her hands' thing, too.

* * *

><p>"Do you think Hawke will be mad? I don't really like it when Hawke gets mad. You don't think Hawke will be mad do you?"<p>

"Don't worry Daisy, I'm sure everything worked out fine. It was a better surprise this way."

"And if they didn't, I'm sure they'll have all sorts of fun making up. All that practice picking locks, and fisting, and –"

"Rivaini."

* * *

><p><em>i own nothing. written with T in mind...i just wanted hawke to have something akin to a hello, officer moment :(<br>_


End file.
